Churches

Churches. 

Small. Large. Cathedrals. City. Country

I love churches and I collect them, and I own many replicas. Some are birdhouses, others are Christmas ornaments, a few are knickknacks scattered about my house.

Our little country church used to look like this. Traditional. I loved the steeple. Steeples were put on churches so that people could find the location and attend. Steeples pointed the way to God. Alas. The steeple is gone now.

We had a traditional setting, but it began to change. I wish I could say our church was changing to meet the needs of the time, and that's true. Sort of.

Many of our sweet congregation have gone to their eternal home and it became necessary to sell our buildings and land. The new church that bought our facilities  remodeled the facilities. We continue to meet in their accommodations that were once ours, but boy! Is there a difference. 

We move our traditional furniture each Sunday to a platform that is draped in black.

Here we are on a Sunday morning.

When the new church meets, they use the black background for strobe lights and smoke machines. They change the look for their worship. 

Here they are

These two churches meeting in the same facility at different times and each has a unique styles of worship. 

It doesn't look like the same place, does it? It's amazing. Seriously. They are super talented with technology. Visual aids lend themselves to illustrating a sermon topic. 

Isn't it wonderful how God uses distinctive types of reverence to make Himself known to us?

Which do you prefer? Traditional? Small? Mega? 

The important thing is to find the place that suits you.

Faith and Humor

Sarah at the North Pole

In six months, Santa will be here, but I'm thinking about him today.

I'm writing a Christmas story and it's due in August. Sarah, my haphazard angel is helping Santa, his wife, and elves. I'm having a lot of fun this hot June thinking snow, North Pole and Santa.

In this scene, Sarah watches the elves at work.

Red Berry proved himself as a real gentleman. Tall for an elf, and with a shock of red hair, he was affable in his long green coat and leggings. Sarah liked him right from the get-go. He insisted the group call him Berry but that Mona elf refused. Was she a meanie or what? She insisted on calling him Red or Red Berry.  Berry supervised the conveyor belt of toys. Did a good job, too, at least in Sarah’s limited opinion.

But Hap was Sarah’s favorite. Mona had nicknamed him Haphazard. Like Sarah, Hap was clumsy, fell down often, spoke phrases incorrectly, and made a mess of his work. Mona had made fun of him for dressing improperly. He’d come into the workshop  earlier with his coat on backward. And then he’d goofed at the assembly table. Everyone laughed themselves silly when he attached legs on a baby doll where arms were supposed to be. Sarah had chuckled at the odd-looking doll—legs protruding straight out of arm sockets, and hands where feet should be, but she’d been ashamed of her mirth. She wasn’t laughing at Hap, just at the odd creation. Nevertheless, she knew how he must feel. Her dyslexia caused humans and angels to be unkind to her. Sarah resolved to befriend Hap if she could.

When Sarah's Christmas story is published at holiday time, I hope you'll read it. It's a fantasy designed to give you a giggle.

In the meantime, how about reading another Sarah book? You'll find them on Amazon and other fine online book sellers.

Faith and Humor

Silly Questions and Crazy Answers

Conversation between a visitor and guide at Yellowstone National Park.

First time female visitor: "Where did all those big rocks come from?
Guide: "The glaciers brought them down.
Visitor: "I don't see the glaciers. Where are they?"
The weary guide replied, "They went back for more rocks."

I hope the young lady took the guides remark in stride and laughed.  

I'm a curious person and I know some of my questions have offended my listener. 

One person took my inquiry wrong and didn't speak to me for weeks. I didn't know until much later how my question was internalized.  By the way, she interpreted it all wrong. I asked  about one thing, she took the question to mean something else.

No doubt I've had times when I appeared uninformed with my question. 

On other occasions, I must have sounded loony.

Sometimes my questions entertained listeners.

My point to all this?

Ask questions anyway. Curiosity teaches, and who knows? Maybe the responses and reactions you receive will show up in your next book.

Wouldn't you love to know which one of my books has a scene where a friend misunderstands a question and causes a ruckus?  If you find it, let me know. 

Faith and Humor